


fix our broken pieces one at a time (Rey and Kylo Ren | Ben Solo Drabbles)

by audreyii_fic



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcoholics Anonymous, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Amnesia, Angst, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Drunkenness, F/M, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Force Ghost Padmé Amidala, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Lab Sex, Lawyers, Meet-Cute, Organized Crime, Prompt Fill, Romance, Sex Pollen, Sexual Harassment, Tropes, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Weddings, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-10 07:53:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14732960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreyii_fic/pseuds/audreyii_fic
Summary: Was that… was that an insult, or did he just try to flirt with her? Badly?Tiny AU taster spoons (and other such nonsense). Ratings and tags subject to change.





	1. two miserable people meeting at a wedding au [pg-13]

**Author's Note:**

> You know what I don't do for drabbles? Think ahead. Edit. Question whether what I'm writing even makes sense. Because life's short, and prompt fills are fun. So there.

 

**[gosavebensolo](http://gosavebensolo.tumblr.com/) said: 7 and 22? or either? Pretty please? :D**

 

_200 word drabble courtesy of[this prompt post](http://audreyii-fic.tumblr.com/post/174096165333/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short). Embrace ALL the tropes!_

 

 

Everyone’s out on the dance floor; everyone except her and this guy. He sat down next to her five minutes ago with a piece of cake and hasn’t spoken or eaten. Until now. 

“You’re jealous.”

Rey flinches. “I’m not,” she says. (As kids it was her and Finn – but then came adulthood, then Poe, then Rose; the three of them are living the polyamorous dream, and yes, Rey is jealous. She wishes that worked for her, that she could also fit neatly into their equation. But it doesn’t,  _she_  doesn’t, and she’s happy for them, but she feels more lonely today than she has in years.)

“Well, you  _look_  jealous.”

Hmph. “You don’t seem too cheerful yourself,” she retorts. (She noticed him at the ceremony because he stood half a head taller than anyone else. Also because he didn’t even fake a smile.) “So who are  _you_  jealous of?”

“No one, since you’re alone,” says the guy. He doesn’t even look at her as he says it.

She blinks.

Was that… was that an insult, or did he just try to flirt with her?  _Badly?_

“I’m Ben,” he says.

And he pushes his untouched slice of cake in her direction.

 

 


	2. fake relationship au [pg-13]

 

**requested by[@flameysaur](https://tmblr.co/mR9N36S7tAe4VegLKWntbGw) and [@gosavebensolo](https://tmblr.co/m9b0tygsQKXCcAnFzobhfTQ)**

 

_600 word drabble courtesy of[this prompt post](http://audreyii-fic.tumblr.com/post/174096165333/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short). Embrace ALL the tropes!_

 

  
“What are you doing?”

“What do you  _think_  I’m doing?”

Kylo was going to kill her. (Not literally – though he’d done that for the First Order, he’d sold his soul for the First Order.) “I think,” he growled, taking Rey’s arm and steering her towards a quiet hallway, “that you are trying my generosity.”

“Wrong. I’m doing my job.”

Her  _job_. Rey Johnson, newest member of FBI Director Organa’s organized crime task force, whose youthful face masked a vicious tenacity, had devoted herself to the task of Taking Down Snoke’s First Order. The fact that this was impossible didn’t seem to occur to her.

Kylo should have outed her the first time he caught her infiltrating one of Snoke’s clubs. He really should have.

Instead, he tried to turn her as a double agent.

But rather than taking an obscene amount of money and a chance of living to retirement age, Agent Johnson seemed to think  _she_  could turn  _him_.

Foolish girl. Foolish, enthralling girl.

Now they were at stalemate. The kind where they thwarted each other’s plans, made each other’s lives stupidly difficult, and, once in awhile, wound up pretending they weren’t on opposite sides of a war.

This was not one of those times.

Kylo crowded her against the wall, caging her in with his body. “Are you wired?” he asked. Rey was certainly reckless enough to be wearing a mic in one of the First Order’s money-laundering casinos.

“No.”

“Planting a bug?”

Silence.

He groaned. “I should turn you over to Snoke.”

“You say that every time.”

“And it’s true every time.” She was wearing the littlest slip of a dress. Kylo tried not to notice how it dipped low on her breastbone. “If you leave now,” he made himself say, “I’ll forget you were–”

“I’m your girlfriend.”

Wait. “What?”

Rey’s gaze flicked over his shoulder, then her hands grabbed his shirt and–

Oh.

_Oh._

Her mouth was even softer than he’d imagined.

Then–

“Excuse me.” A pointed cough. “Ren, if you’re not  _too_  busy, Snoke wants to see us.”

Kylo pulled away from Rey’s embrace. Somehow her arms had made their way around his neck, and her face had wound up cradled between his hands. “All right,” he said. “I’ll be there in a moment.”

Hux smirked. (This was his only talent of note, near as Kylo could tell.) Nodding towards Rey, he said: “And this is?”

 _Please_. Agent Johnson’s desperate eyes fixed on his. Kylo could almost hear her voice in his head.  _Please, Ben._

(She always used his old name, as though it might make a difference. He told her it never would, but… on  _her_  tongue, he didn’t hate it.)

“She’s my girlfriend,” Kylo said to Hux.

This farce would almost certainly get him killed, but it was nearly worth it to see the look on Hux’s face. “ _You_  have a girlfriend,” he said. “Since when?”

“Since none-of-your-business.” Just to keep up the act, Kylo planted another lingering kiss on Rey’s mouth. “Tell Snoke I’ll be right up.”

Once Hux had retreated, Rey leaned her forehead against Kylo’s chest. He could feel her heart beating fast as a hummingbird. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“They’ll find our bodies in the river if you keep this up,” he told her, deadly serious. “Leia Organa isn’t all powerful, and she won’t be able to save either of us if Snoke–”

“You’re a good kisser.”

Oh.

Rey slipped out from under his arms and vanished into the crowd.

And if Kylo smiled a little during his meeting with Snoke, well, that was just the way it was.

 

 


	3. ghost/living person au [pg]

  

**[@sonsoftatooine](https://tmblr.co/mPgsVQXpWNbHcdRo5MU51XA) said: 41 for Reylo! / [@sfiddy](https://tmblr.co/mV9rgi_EJCfu7Tp0FiUosxQ) said: Ghost/Living person au. ;)**

 

_probably not what you had in mind, but too bad, i don’t want to hurt today._   _400 word drabble courtesy of[this prompt post](http://audreyii-fic.tumblr.com/post/174096165333/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short). Embrace ALL the tropes!_

 

 

“You look like me,” said Padmé Amidala, tilting her head to the side. “I did not expect that.”

Rey didn’t either, but then, she didn’t expect  _any_  of this. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t know anyone could… ah…” She gestured vaguely at the ghost’s blue halo. “Do all Jedi do that, when they die?”

“Oh, I’m not a Jedi. I have special dispensation.” Padmé settled herself on Rey’s bunk. (Maybe they looked similar, she and Padmé, but Padmé moved with measured, deliberate grace. Like Leia. Rey would have just flopped onto the mattress.) “It’s been suggested,” she said, “that I speak to you about my grandson.”

Spikes of anger shot up Rey’s spine. “He could have come with me,” she snapped. “All he had to do was– but he just wanted to  _bring a new order_ , and– I don’t care if you’re his grandmother, you had better not tell me to have compassion for him, because I am  _not_  in the mood right now.”

The Queen of the Naboo appeared entirely unruffled by this outburst. “Not at all,” she said placidly. “I wouldn’t cross planes of existence just to tell you to repeat my mistakes.”

(Rey swore she could hear someone cough  _“Padmé!”_ )

“Frankly,” Padmé continued, “I can’t think of anyone worse suited to advise you than myself. None of the choices I made swayed Anakin from his path. I turned a blind eye to his faults and his demons. I offered him forgiveness and love and a family, but even so, my children were left motherless and Darth Vader terrorized the galaxy for a generation.”

This wasn’t helping. “So… there’s nothing I can do, then. Ben Solo is really gone.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I should have swung a blade at Anakin’s face.” There was a hint of Ben’s mouth in Padmé’s smile. “My advice, Rey of Jakku, is that you repair my husband’s lightsaber – and should you see my grandson again, attack him with it until he comes to his senses.”

(Yes, someone definitely muttered  _“That is not what we sent you to tell her”_  – then laughter, and someone else:  _“But entertaining, this is!”)_

“I can do that,” said Rey.

“Then I wish you success, young Jedi.” Padmé’s form faded. “And tell him to stop being self-conscious about his moles. He got them from me and his grandfather found them perfectly attractive, thank you very much.”

( _“Padmé!”_ )

 

 


	4. knocking on the wrong door au [r]

 

**[likeadove](http://likeadove.tumblr.com/) said: 28 :D**

 

_400 word drabble courtesy of[this prompt post](http://audreyii-fic.tumblr.com/post/174096165333/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short). Embrace ALL the tropes!_

 

“Who the bloody hell are you?”

Ben scowls down at the freckled, flushed face of the girl at his front door. She reeks of alcohol. “That’s my line,” he says, “minus the ‘bloody’ part.” His alarm goes off in two hours and he does not have time for some drunk kid trying to break into his apartment. “I think you’re lost.”

The girl blinks at him for a moment, then tries (and obviously fails) to focus on the numbers on his door. “Eight… oh… six,” she sounds out, very slowly.

“That’s  _three_ -oh-six.”

Her dismay would be funny if it wasn’t three in the morning. “I have to climb  _five more stories_?”

“There’s an elevator at the end of the hall. Now go away.” That seems to be the end of the conversation, thank God. Ben steps back to close the door–

–but the girl sticks out her hand. “Rey Niima. Eight-oh-six. I’m new.”

“Yes, I gathered.” Ben sighs, shaking her proffered hand. She has a strong grip for someone this fucked up. “Solo. Ben.”

“…Kylo Ren?”

“Sure. Please leave.”

“You’re kind of a dick.” She’s not letting go. “I shouldn’t’ve had that fourth shot. Or the fifth, maybe.”

“Yes, I am. And drink water before you go to bed.”

“Oh, bed sounds fantastic,” she sighs. “I want to go to bed, Kylo Ren. I  _really_  want to go to bed.”

That… wow, should not have the effect on him that it does. Not from a girl ten years his junior too drunk to get his name right. But it’s been a depressingly long time since anyone said that to him, and Ben drops her hand in a hurry, cheeks flushing. “Elevator’s to the right.”

“Thanks.” And she starts heading left.

Ben takes her by the arm and gently turns her around. (Her skin is warm and he is pathetic.) “Your  _other_  right,” he says.

“Oh. Okay.” Rey gives him a bright, slightly vague smile as she walks away. “See you, Kylo bloody Ren.”

Fuck. “I’m going to knock on your door tomorrow,” he calls after her. “Uh, not to be creepy or anything. Just see whether you’re dead.”

Wow.  _Wow_.

Ben – Kylo – whatever – hits his head against the door frame. Apparently it’s been so long that he can’t even  _talk_  to women anymore.

Ugh. With any luck, Rey won’t remember a word of this.

(As he found out, she did.)

 

 


	5. meeting in prison au [pg-13]

 

 

**@gemdelovely said:37! Meeting in prison AU! <3**

 

_not exactly the request, but holding cells are close to prison, right? 400 word drabble courtesy of[this prompt post](http://audreyii-fic.tumblr.com/post/174096165333/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short). Embrace ALL the tropes!_

 

 

“18 USC 511, 2321, and 2322.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means, Ms. Smith, that you’re being charged with a dizzying number of federal crimes. Not to mention assaulting a police officer and resisting arrest–”

“That wasn’t my fault,” Rey interjected hotly. “I had my headphones on, and all the sudden some guy grabs my legs and drags me out from under a Camaro. I didn’t know it was a raid.”

“You broke the officer’s nose.”

“Yeah, and then he tased me. Can’t we call it even?”

Mr. Ren sighed. “Ms. Smith–”

“Rey.”

“Rey, let me be frank. Until you embarrassed one of the NYPD’s finest, it was just about Unkar Plutt’s chop shop ring.  _You_  were nothing. Now, though, the DA will make your life hell on principle.”

Rey swallowed hard. “Well, that’s why you’re my lawyer, right?” she said, flexing her fingers. They’d cuffed her to the table and her wrists were going numb. Definitely the worst holding cell she’d ever been in. “To make me… nothing, again?”

There was a pause while Ren gave her a long, slow look. (She’d never seen a public defender more in need of a haircut.) “You’re what, a hundred and ten pounds?” he said abruptly.

“Excuse me?”

“And you’re–” he checks her file “–twenty-two years old? You look younger. That’s good.”

“Why does that–”

“Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to turn state’s evidence against Plutt, and you’re going to do it wearing a sundress.” At Rey’s expression, he explained impatiently: “The NYPD will drop the assault charges on the spot. No cop will admit to having the shit kicked out of him by an underfed schoolgirl.”

“Hey!”

“As long as you agree to testify, I can get the main charges knocked down to a few months in minimum security. Maybe probation, if you play up the accent and we get a bleeding-heart on the bench.”

Rey shook her head. “I can’t testify against Unkar.”

“You can if you don’t want to spend the next five years in jail.”

“No, you don’t understand. I–”  _I live in that garage, he has my passport, I have nowhere to go_  “–I can’t.”

“Find your courage, Ms. Smith. You don’t have a lot of options.” Ren checked his watch. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning with your dress. Don’t answer any questions unless I’m present.”

This was going to go terribly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rey's last name is different in every one of these drabbles so far. I don't know why.


	6. diagnosed with terminal illness au [pg-13]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for pet sadness.

 

  **[flameysaur](http://flameysaur.tumblr.com/) said: Diagnosed with terminal illness au. (I want you to suffer.)**

 

_fine. take away my fluff, you wretch. 400 word drabble courtesy of[this prompt post](http://audreyii-fic.tumblr.com/post/174096165333/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short). Embrace ALL the tropes!_

 

“Ben Solo?” A young woman in scrubs comes forward, giving Ben a gentle smile. She holds out her hand; he doesn’t take it, and after a moment, her smile fades uncertainly. “I’m Rey,” she says, lowering her arm. “I’m the vet tech.”

“Good for you,” he says, turning back to his phone. He’s already late to work; Hux has been blowing up his texts for twenty minutes. “When will Poe be ready to go?”

“I’m afraid it’s going to be a little while yet.”

He snorts. “How long can a few tests possibly take?”

“We’re required to–”

“This is absurd. Do you people charge by the hour?”

“Your friend’s dog is  _dying_ , Mr. Solo.”

Ben stops. He looks up. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says calmly. “That dumb corgi is indestructible. I should know, I have to live with the little nightmare.”

Any compassion in the vet tech’s face is long gone. “Bee-Bee has kidney cancer. Inoperable. It’ll be a few weeks at most.”

“Bullshit. He was  _fine_  three days ago.”

“Animals are very skilled at hiding when they’re sick.”

“Not this one. He whines and yaps and complains about  _everything_. Obviously he needs a better clinic.”

If anything, her expression hardens further. “You’re welcome to try another location,” she snaps. “But it would only cause both Bee-Bee and your friend more distress.”

“Poe’s my roommate, not my friend.”

“Fine. Your roommate is in Room Three, sobbing his heart out. I just came to make sure someone could drive him and Bee-Bee home. But if you can’t manage not be a complete  _monster_  about it, I’ll order him an Uber and pay for it myself.”

Ben presses his lips together. “No,” he manages through gritted teeth. “If he can’t drive–”

“He can’t, not like this.”

“–then I’ll do it.” He pulls his phone back out and opens a new browser window.  _Local veterinary office. Dog kidney cancer_. “And I’ll find someone who’ll treat that worthless mutt, since you people are too incompetent to do so.”

A minute passes.

Then a soft hand blocks the view of the search results. For some stupid reason, Rey’s giving him a tissue. “A few weeks,” she says, gentle again. “Will we see you then?”

“It won’t be necessary,” he insists.

Another minute. A second tissue. A warm touch to his shoulder.

Ben shoots a quick text to Hux, taking the rest of the day off.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS WAS NOT MY FAULT BLAME FLAMEYSAUR


	7. high school popular kid/nerd au [pg-13]

 

**[tedcruz420](http://tedcruz420.tumblr.com/) said: high school popular kid/nerd au? (Rey as the nerd ) plz?** _  
_

 

_also for[@likeadove](https://tmblr.co/moB2zpvaiFS4KX3CD1Mrmnw) since she suggested a fender bender meet cute. 400 word drabble courtesy of [this prompt post](http://audreyii-fic.tumblr.com/post/174096165333/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short). Embrace ALL the tropes!_

 

Ben Solo explosions were events of legend at Hosnian High. (Last time Solo lost his temper, he and two others were suspended for a month.) So half the senior class had come running to see the dent in the front of the 1964 Ford Falcon; no one wanted to miss this.

“Your dad is going to kill you,” Hux told Ben. He didn’t sound too upset about it.

“I am  _so_  sorry,” Rey said. Her bicycle was beyond repair, but she, at least, had come out of the collision unscathed. The Falcon had swerved into a light pole to avoid running her over. “I was late to class, I wasn’t looking, and… er…”

She felt herself quailing under Ben’s gaze. He was very, very tall. And… uh… intense.

“I’m sorry,” she said again, meekly. “I can probably fix it – I’m good with cars.”

“It’s my father’s. He won’t let anyone else touch it. Except for me.” A pause. “But not after today, probably.”

Oh, God. She’d only been here since October, but she’d heard stories, and– he wouldn’t hit a girl, right? “I’m Rey,” she offered.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I know.”

She blinked.  _Ben Solo knows who I am._  Maybe that wasn’t so surprising – not that many mid-year transfers with English accents who turned into instant outcasts thanks to third-hand clothes and unattractive dining manners. (No matter how long she’d been off the street, she couldn’t stop from eating as fast as she could.) But still. She was nothing, and he was a legend.

“I’m Ben.”

A legend who for some reason felt the need to introduce himself. “Yeah,” said Rey. “I know.”

The crowd stirred restlessly. This was the part where Ben Solo was supposed to break something or someone. Inscrutably staring at a girl in dirty overalls was both out of character and dull.

Rey dug into her backpack and pulled out a sheet of paper. “Here,” she said, scribbling quickly. “This is my house number. My… uh, guardian – he’ll pay damages.” (Unkar wouldn’t, but that was a problem for six hours from now.)

Ben took the number without saying anything. His eyes didn’t leave her face.

Rey felt herself inexplicably blush.

The late bell rang, dispersing the crowd – and breaking the spell. “Um… sorry again,” she said, before beating a hasty retreat towards the entrance.

(“Jesus, Solo,” she heard Hux say. “What the  _fuck_  was that?”)

 

 


	8. prostitute/client au [r]

 

_hell, i just did this one because i felt like it. 600 word drabble courtesy of[this prompt post](http://audreyii-fic.tumblr.com/post/174096165333/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short). Embrace ALL the tropes!_

 

“You will come with me to my ship.”

“No, I won’t.”

The man frowned. “You will come with me to my ship,” he repeated firmly, steel lacing his words.

“No,” said Rey, annoyed. She untied her belt and let her satchel fall to the floor. “I won’t. It’s here, or not at all.”

It was amazing how quickly this one could go from aristocratic assurance to uncertainty without changing his expression. At least he’d removed the mask. “What are you doing?”

“Exactly what it looks like.” Boots next. “You’re going to want to take off a few layers too, unless you fancy heat exhaustion.”

(Two years ago she’d fallen thirty feet and broken her leg. It took an entire season to heal, and during that time, she’d stayed alive with the only employment you can get when stuck on your back. It didn’t make her feel soiled, the way some said it would; whether dragging salvage from shipyards or letting a passing trader rut between her thighs, her body helped her survive. Both kinds of work were boring, anyway.)

He still didn’t move.

Rey prompted, “I don’t know where you’re from, but Jakku doesn’t cool down much at night, and this rust bucket doesn’t have working climate adjusters.” (An old speederbus behind the Outpost worked for Rey’s purposes. She didn’t allow anyone in her AT-AT, and she  _certainly_  didn’t get on their ships.) “Take your robe off, at least.”

“I felt you. From the other side of the planet.”

Men said the strangest things.

(This is going so oddly that Rey almost wondered if she’d misread him, if he were actually here for a power converter, not a quick tumble. But he’d walked into Niima with a singular focus, and she’d felt his fascination right down to her bones. He’d come for her.)

If they didn’t pick up the pace she’d be here until midnight. “Okay,” she said impatiently, reaching for his waist, “I’ll do it.”

But her fingers froze the moment they made contact with his belt buckle. “ _Stop_.”

This was– it was as though his discomfort saturated the very air around them.  _Wait, he doesn’t want– he’s not here for–_

Oh, no. Rey  _had_  misread him.

She dropped her hands instantly. “I’m sorry,” she blurted out, mortified beyond belief. “I thought–”

“You’re a whore.”

It hadn’t been an insult – he said it flatly, like a comment on her eye color – but Rey lifted her chin anyway. “I’m a lot of things,” she retorted, trying to scrape together some dignity. “If you don’t want me, that’s fine. I’m sorry for the mistake.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth.

Then she felt it – she  _felt_  it – like sheet lightning, like sandstorms and earthquakes, something that, maybe, took even  _him_ by surprise, because if he felt half of what she sensed, then what ran up his spine was  _crippling_.

Desire.

No, she hadn’t been wrong. Not about that.

He had a odd face. Hard to read, but very expressive. Powerful and skittish. Looking for…

…reassurance?

“It’s all right,” she told him. “It’s okay. You can touch me if you’d like.”

His fingers clawed into fists at his sides.

Rey waited.

Then–

He lifted one hand towards her temple, his gloves not quite brushing her skin. “ _You will come with me to my ship_ ,” he said again – very evenly, very calmly. “Please.”

A drugging certainty relaxed her tired muscles. “I will come with you to your ship,” she agreed. She paused. “Why?”

“Because I sensed you. You need a teacher.”

“So do you,” she murmured drowsily.

When she fainted, he caught her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Literal representation of Kylo Ren's brain.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jGlWMegliBc)


	9. waking up with amnesia au [pg-13]

 

**[albastargazer](http://albastargazer.tumblr.com/) said: Reylo? Prompt 18? Preferably AU!**

 

_600 word drabble courtesy of[this prompt post](http://audreyii-fic.tumblr.com/post/174096165333/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short). Embrace ALL the tropes!_

 

“All right,” says Ben, keeping – through extreme effort – a grip on his rage. “Explain it again.”

Poe’s temper seems equally threadbare, given the way his teeth are grinding. (Ben half-hopes he’ll throw a punch, because a fight would really take the edge off.) “She’s not happy, obviously, but she seems to understand she has partial amnesia.”

“A decade is a lot of time to lose.”

“Head trauma is weird, I guess. The important thing is that the neurologist said not to upset her, no matter what.”

“Huh. So why the hell would you call  _me_?”

Poe shoots him a disgusted look. “Because,” he says, “she doesn’t  _know_  you haven’t spoken in eight years. She  _also_  doesn’t know that she’s spent a lifetime fighting for public safety only to watch her kid turned around and started working for gun lobbyists out of  _spite_. And  _because_  she doesn’t know those things, she’s been asking for you since the moment she woke up. So, if it’s not  _too_  much trouble, get in there and fake being a decent son for  _five goddamn minutes_.”

Fine.

But the moment he enters US Senator Organa’s hospital room, two things knock Ben Solo on his ass. Metaphorically.

First: his mother. He sees her occasionally, of course, out of the corner of his eye as they both traverse the Capitol – but hooked up to IVs, one leg in traction, head wrapped in white gauze… the indomitable Leia Organa looks old. And small.

He has never, ever thought of his mother as small.

The second thing, of course, is that Rey Johnson is sitting at her bedside.

Wonderful.

Before Ben – a cumma sum laude graduate of Harvard Law who intimidates people for a living – manages to trip over his own tongue at the sight of someone who should be utterly insignificant, his mother holds out her hand. “Ben,” she says, and, shit, her voice sounds as weak at her body looks. “Ben, when is the last time you cut your hair?”

Rey covers her mouth with her hand; something suspiciously like a snicker escapes.

“It’s been awhile,” Ben concedes.

Leia struggles to sit up, waving off Rey’s admonitions. “The doctors told me it’s 2018, not 2008, but… I suppose I didn’t believe it until now.  _Look_  at you. Yesterday you had acne.”

Now Rey is  _definitely_  laughing.

Ben reminds himself that he is wearing a two-thousand dollar suit, and it does not matter whether a 22-year-old congressional aide knows he still had zits as an undergrad. Especially not an aide who has, on more than one occasion, called him a monster.

Said aide shoots him a pointed look. She nods very slightly at Leia’s outstretched hand.

Ben steps forward and takes it.

Even her grip feels faint. “I’m really glad you came, sweetheart.”

“Maybe he shouldn’t wait for you to get hit by a car before visiting,” Rey says tartly. “Excuse me, Senator, but I should call your office before Finn – er, your appointment secretary – has a heart attack.”

The glance Rey gives him as she leaves the room could reduce buildings to ash.  _Hurt her and I’ll skin you alive._

He watches her go anyway.

“She’s a sensible girl,” Leia says, once they’re alone. “Very down-to-earth.”

“She’s the best aide you’ve ever had–”  _she stormed into my office and screamed at me for sabotaging your legislation so I’ve been pitifully obsessed ever since_  “–and she cares about you a lot.”

“I’m sure I care about her too.” Leia waits for Ben to sit before destroying his life with: “So, how long have you two been together?”

He chokes.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is literally not possible to get more soap operatic than this. I don't even care.


	10. co-stars au [r]

**[blushingoreo](http://blushingoreo.tumblr.com/) said: Could you do number 13 (co-stars) for Reylo please?? :) thank you xx**

 

_600 word drabble courtesy of[this prompt post](http://audreyii-fic.tumblr.com/post/174096165333/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short). Embrace ALL the tropes!_

 

Rey sits at the newsdesk, steaming.

“We’re live in five… four… three… two…”

 

***

 

_“It’s all true,” she insisted. “I’ve got three named sources–”_

_“Disgruntled former employees.”_

_“–and dozens of more women too scared to go on record. It_ happened _, Hux. Snoke is a predator.”_

_“And he owns this station.” Hux’s lip curled. “I’m the executive producer of this show, Ms. Niima. "Leave the journalism to the professionals.”_

 

***

 

“Welcome to WCPO Evening News. I’m Ben Solo, with my co-host, Rey Niima. Tonight’s stories…”

She will not cry on camera. She  _will_  not cry on camera. At least the pancake television makeup will hide the angry flush in her cheeks.

 

***

 

_“It shouldn’t matter who the perpetrator is,” Rey insisted, trying to regain her footing. “Even if he’s the head of our network. We can expose Snoke as the creep that he is. He’ll never see it coming. It’s newsworthy, and important to our viewers.”_

_Hux’s smirk widened to a smile. “That’s cute – but it isn’t why you’re here. You’re here to sit behind the newsdesk, smile, and read what we put in front of your pretty face.”_

_Her breath caught in her chest._

_“Isn’t that right, Solo?” Hux turned to Ben, who had stood silently by the office window through the entire conversation. “You were part of the hiring process. ‘She’ll raise the 18-34 male viewership’, weren’t those your exact words?”_

_Ben said nothing. And a lack of denial was as good as a confirmation._

_“Get out.” Hux pointed at the door. “And if I hear about this story again, it will be the end of your very, very short career.”_

 

***

 

Her resignation letter is written. She’ll turn it in tomorrow. She just has to make it through one last broadcast without–

“–but first, we begin with a subject of a national debate. For this special report on the epidemic of workplace sexual harassment – including how it affects our own station of WCPO – we turn to Rey Niima.”

Rey blinks at the paper Ben slides to her across the newsdesk.

It’s her story.

He’s added himself as a confirming source.

And at the top is a handwritten note:  _Read fast, before Hux cuts the feed._

“Thank you, Ben. In this age of Me-Too revelations, confronting the realities of one’s own place of employment can be…”

 

***

 

Rey’s cleaning out her desk by the end of the night.

“Social media’s blowing up in support,” she hears over her shoulder. She turns to see Ben doing his almost-smile thing that has made her think – more than once in the last six months – that maybe he… maybe he and she could… “You’ll have another job by morning.”

“It won’t be the same,” she admits.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Well, if there’s any offers you pass on, maybe toss them my direction.”

“You got fired, too?”

“Technically I quit. Hux was too busy trying to find his front teeth to actually do the firing.” He shrugs. “I’ve got about two minutes before security arrives, so… I wanted to apologize.”

Rey blinks. Ben Solo has never apologized for anything.

“When you were hired, Snoke and Hux asked me what I thought you would do for ratings. I answered. I shouldn’t have. And I should have walked out ages ago.” He shrugs again, not meeting her eyes. “I’m not looking for forgiveness. I just wanted you to know that I regret my choices. And I’m sorry.”

He makes it halfway to the elevator before Rey calls: “Do you have time for a coffee? I need help updating my resume.”

(They get caught by security in the lobby.)

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I know about broadcast journalism, I learned from Murphy Brown. Please ignore basically all the things.


	11. getting one off drugs au [pg-13]

 

**[flameysaur](http://flameysaur.tumblr.com/) said: Getting one off drugs au.**

 

_eh, close enough. 300 word drabble courtesy of[this prompt post](http://audreyii-fic.tumblr.com/post/174096165333/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short). Embrace ALL the tropes!_

 

“The thing is, I’m trying.”

She shouldn’t be here.

“I read the books, like I’m supposed to. I listen to the stories–”

And if she’s going to be here, it  _definitely_  shouldn’t be with him.

“–but it doesn’t work. I’ve never felt so alone.”

“You’re not alone.”

Rey looks up from her plate of half-eaten scrambled eggs. It’s two AM and Ben Solo is on his fourth cup of coffee. She’s sticking with orange juice and wishing like hell it was vodka; the three month sobriety token she twists in her fingers feels like a lie.

“You feel like you’re faking it,” Ben says. “That’s pretty normal. It never really goes away.”

She doesn’t know why she called him. That’s what her sponsor is for, these crises where she stands outside a liquor store until the owner tells her to just buy something already. But Luke’s been sober for ten years, and… it’s not the same.

While Ben’s fallen off the wagon more times than even he knows.

“Does it get easier?” she asks, fearing the answer.

“No.” Ben’s response is short and blunt. “But middle-of-the-night drink-craving hashbrowns are the best, so… there’s perks.” He pushes his plate in her direction – there’s still several pieces of bacon – and sets to work on her eggs.

“Is that how you deal with it? Greasy food?”

“No, this is fuel for how I  _actually_  deal. There’s a twenty-four hour gym down the street. The ring will be empty by now.”

“I’m not sure boxing is what I need.”

“Look, if you want to ‘pray to a higher power’, call Luke.  _I_  hit things.” Ben stands and gulps one last swallow of coffee. “Come on. I can teach you.”

Well.

It can’t hurt.

And his smile when she takes his hand doesn’t hurt, either.

 

 


	12. lab partners au [r]

 

**[annedey](http://annedey.tumblr.com/) said: Reylo 14 lab partner au please? (I love all the prompt you have written yet)**

 

_there is no doubt in my mind this is not what you intended. hope it works anyway. 300 word drabble courtesy of[this prompt post](http://audreyii-fic.tumblr.com/post/174096165333/send-me-a-ship-and-a-number-and-ill-write-a-short). Embrace ALL the tropes!_

 

Ben hears the crash all the way from down the hall, followed by a very British: “Damn!”

He storms towards the lab, stripping off mask and goggles in the process. Holdo should never have hired someone right out of grad school. “All right,” he growls, opening the door, “what have you destroyed?”

Then he frowns. In between shards of broken glass, there’s yellow dust all over the floor – and all over Niima. It’s even hanging in the air. “Since when are you–”

“It’s Dameron’s project,” she says breathlessly. (Breathlessly?) “I’m taking readings while he’s out of town.”

Dameron’s a botanist, which Niima is most assuredly not. He must have been desperate. “How much of his work have you managed to ruin?”

(She’s pretty, and courageous, and much too young, and anything but hostility will destroy Ben’s hard-fought peace of mind. He’s self-aware enough to know  _why_  he’s an asshole.)

This should be where her eyes flash and she tells him to leave.

And, well…

Her eyes flash. “You should leave.”

But it’s…

…not…

Against all scientific judgement, but with full approval of evolutionary instinct, Ben inhales deeply.

Then. Everything. Is…

“What was Dameron working on?” he manages to say.

“I don’t know.” Niima –  _Rey_ , she’s  _Rey_  – is unbuttoning her lab coat. There’s a high blush in her cheeks and she hasn’t taken her eyes off him. “But there’s some… um… side effects…”

“Yeah.” His blood is three hundred degrees. “I feel it, too.”

Then she is in his arms and he is licking a stripe of yellow dust off the side of her neck. “Help,” she gasps, fisting her hands into his hair so tight it ought to hurt. (It doesn’t.) “Please help… I want…”

Ben sweeps the lab table clear.

So much for his peace of mind.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just do sex pollen? You're goddamn right I just did sex pollen. I regret nothing.


End file.
